


The Mycelium Menace

by Sp0iler_Alert



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Basically this is a zombie situation, But HEP shows up too, Gen, I'll add more Hermits in the tags as they show up, Not really zombies btw it's infected because they aren't dead, Pretty much every hermit shows up at some point, Science gone wrong babey, Temporary Character Death, The main focus is on the mycelium resistance, also nothing shippy in this fic, but they get better!, fungal infection momence, it's not exact but it's pretty close, mild body horror stuff too, nothing too graphic or creepy tho, oh yeah themes of possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27134227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sp0iler_Alert/pseuds/Sp0iler_Alert
Summary: The mycelium resistance is branching out to try and win the turf war in the shopping district, but genetically modifying Mycelium to spread faster doesn't go as planned...* FINISHED! *
Comments: 38
Kudos: 107





	1. Patient Zero

The Mycelium Resistance base was alive with friendly chatter, as its members gathered for a meeting. Every chair at the round table in the centre of the room was filled, bar one. Grian glanced at it with faint unease, although he couldn't place why. Ren had probably just lost track of time, he had been busy recently, after all. He had told him at the last meeting that he was working on something in the lab that could win this turf war for them. He'd seemed excited. Beside him, Stress burst out into riotous laughter at something Xb had said, and Grian smiled, his unease fading. He would just go and grab Ren himself. Grian stood, catching the attention of Etho,  
“Where you going, G?” He asked with a good natured smile in his eyes,  
Grian sighed softly, “I'm just going to make sure Ren hasn't fallen asleep in the lab or something, I won't be long.”  
Etho nodded slightly, turning to join back in with the conversation at the table, as Grian walked casually down the corridor, humming ever so slightly to himself as he went. He turned the corner into the lab, a pale room made of red and white concrete and, sure enough, Ren was standing in the centre, leaning over a work bench. Grian stepped towards him, “Ren! Come on, the meeting's started. We're all looking forwards to seeing what you've been working on.”  
Ren didn't react, or even move. Standing stock still aside from the faint, slow swaying motion produced by his shallow breathing. Grian stepped closer, his unease blooming once again in his chest, and pulled out his communicator, pulling down the tab list. As he looked at it, Ren ticked over to being AFK. “...Ren?” he tried again, coming closer until he stood beside his friend.  
He went to examine Ren's face but his eyes were caught by something else. A book laying open, it's double page spread covered in incoherent scribbles that Grian could only assume were meant to be words. He reached for it and picked it up, only to immediately drop it again. It had been covered in a thin, unpleasant sheet of threads that looked almost like spiders silk, except they were an pale purple colour. As he looked, he realised the whole workbench was covered in these threads, and that they seemed to be erupting from the several Petri dishes scattered around it. Reaching again for the book, Grian brushed the Mycelium fibres off of it and flicked back to the first page. On it were notes in Ren's distinctive script, something about altering the Mycelium's DNA to make it grow faster, but as Grian flipped through the words disintegrated, and turned to nonsense. In several places, the ink was just a mess of blobs where liquid had been spilled on it. Closing the book with a soft thud, Grian hissed out an anxious breath. He turned once again towards Ren and realised with a start that he was now staring directly at him, washed out blue eyes trained on Grian's face.  
Fibres just like those which covered the table, only thicker, spilled from his head like hair, and were even pulled back into something that resembled a ponytail. His skin was uncomfortably pale, and his cheeks hollow. Threads of Mycelium trailed over his arms and neck, echoing his veins. He had the overall impression of sickness, and yet was still unmistakably alive. Grian stepped back, fear pressing at his chest, his heart racing. He unconsciously flicked firework rockets into his hand, and flexed his elytra. Ren's eyes followed him, and for a few painful seconds, everything was still. Then Ren exploded into motion, lunging at Grian with a sudden ferocity so horrific, Grian couldn't help but scream. He leaped into flight, a rocket going off before he even knew what was happening, and shot through the door to the lab, hitting the wall with a crack. But the new-found pain in his shoulder didn't stop him, and he launched another rocket, this time crash landing on the meeting table, his fall cushioned somewhat by the honey underneath it.  
The Resistance members were already standing up, confusion and worry in each of their eyes.  
“Grian? What-” Impulse started, but was cut off by Ren stumbling out of the lab, livid eyes fixed on them.  
“FLY, GO!” Grian yelled, as Ren charged them once again, and they all shot into the air. Stress was the first one out, followed closely by Jevin. Next was Xb, then Impulse. The moment Impulse was clear of the exit Grian let off a rocket and was in the air when he felt a heavy weight on his leg. He tried desperately to kick Ren off, but he held on with an unnatural strength, and as the initial kick from the firework begin to wane, Grian felt himself falling.

Gathered around the entrance to the Mycelium Resistance base, Impulse felt his hope fade. Grian had been right behind him, he should, by all accounts, be out by now. And yet he wasn't. There had been the sounds of banging and crashing inside the base initially, but now there was only silence. He glanced up at his fellow Resistance members, and saw they were all wearing identical expressions of disbelief and horror.  
A soft buzz sounded from their communicators. Impulse flicked his open, and what they had all feared was confirmed. 

'Grian was slain by renthedog using '

The atmosphere of disbelief intensified, as they all looked up at each other. “Well...” Jevin started, clearly unsure of what to say, “What now?”  
Stress shrugged softly, and turned to look back into the Resistance base. The silence was heavy.  
“I guess… We could ask the HEP for help?” Impulse suggested, quietly. “Dealing with Mycelium is what they're here for...”  
The others exchanged glances, then Xb nodded. “That sounds like our best bet.”  
Impulse pulled out his communicator, and briefly read the messages that had been sent over the last few minutes.

'Xiuma: That doesn't look right'  
'MumboJumbo: Everything ok over there?'

Impulse sucked in a breath and began to type,

'ImpulseSV: We have a problem. HEP meet us in your meeting room as soon as you can.'

Impulse pocketed his communicator and huffed out a soft breath. “We should get going.”  
Together, the remains of the Mycelium Resistance shot into the air, headed for the HEP HQ.

Far away, in the Hermit Infested Jungle, Grian woke up in his bed, pale eyes staring up at the ceiling. He sat up slowly, his body contorting strangely with the movement, and he sat hunched for a moment, heaving in the humid, jungle air and hissing out spores. His fingers twitched, delicate threads of Mycelium running down them. With a jarring suddenness, he stood, and stumbled outside, the air oppressive on his now sensitive skin. He looked up at the sky, the first tendrils of night creeping in, and a smattering of stars already visible. For just that moment, he felt a strange melancholy. But soon the feeling ended, the memory of emotion faded all too quickly, and Grian stumbled away into the jungle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I had this idea a little while ago and decided to impulsively write it, since it's spooky season and all. I've never written any Hermitcraft fanfiction before so my characterisation may be a little funky! I hope it's nothing too bad tho. With any luck this fanfiction will be finished, but I have no schedule worked out for posting so just keep an eye out.


	2. An Ill-fated Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Resistance joins up with HEP to try and deal with the zombies, only to find things are much worse then they thought...

Mumbo was doing a little bit of work on his base. Despite it being more or less finished, creepers were a bit of an issue for him, and he was trying to work in a little more lighting so that he no longer had to constantly rebuild the floor of his main room. Uneven footsteps interrupted him, and he paused for a moment, holding a lantern up in the air where he was just about to hook it onto some chains.  
“Who's that? Iskall?”  
There was no response, so Mumbo hung the lantern on the chain and stepped down onto the main floor of his base. The lack of footsteps prompted Mumbo to head towards where they were coming from, just behind his portal.  
“Is this a Hermit Challenges thing- oh.”  
Mumbo had come around his nether portal to see Grian standing awkwardly, Mycelium clinging to his body. He looked up suddenly, and tilted his head sharply to the side, pale eyes boring into Mumbo. Mumbo squirmed.  
“Grian…? Is this your Halloween skin..? Or is it something to do with whatever going on in the shopping district?”  
Grian did not reply, and Mumbo resisted the urge to step closer. It wasn't unusual for Grian to do weird things and wear strange skins, but usually he would've flown off laughing by now, or smiled, or done… anything at all. The silence grew awkward, and Mumbo glanced away for a moment, adjusting his tie just so his hands had something to do.  
“Well I'll.. I'll be off then?”  
He took two steps backwards, before turning completely and beginning to walk away. Loud, violent footsteps commenced behind him almost immediately, and Mumbo turned in a panic to see Grian racing towards him, legs uncoordinated but his pace still quick. Mumbo fumbled through his inventory, his panic only exacerbating his disorganisation. He finally grasped his firework rockets, but it was too late. The force of the impact with the ground knocked him out clean, and he didn't last very long after that.

Elsewhere, Hermits were gathering. The remnants of the Mycelium Resistance were huddled together in the HEP meeting room, all in varying states of shock. Etho was pacing up and down, restless. Stress was seated, drumming her fingers on the table and staring out into space. With a hiss of particles and a whistle of wind, someone swept into the meeting room, and landed messily on the table, startling Stress, who flinched back. It was Xisuma, dressed in the Bee armour he'd made many months ago. From under the visor, his eye flickered from face to face, registering the uncharacteristic disquiet in each one.  
“Something really bad must've happen to shake you lot so much. I assume it has to do with Grian and Rendog?”  
Impulse nodded, fidgeting with his hands.  
“We'll.. tell you what happened when the others arrive.” he said quietly, and Xisuma nodded, crossing the room to look out and over the shopping district. Cub arrived soon over, offering a greeting but not much else, and sat down at the table. The rest of HEP all arrived together soon after, aside from Bdubs, with Scar bringing up the rear and landing gracelessly in his chair at the head of the table. The mood was grim. “So,” Scar said, trying to inject energy into his voice and temper the sombre atmosphere, “what's happened?”  
The Resistance members exchanged glances, unsure of who should speak. After a few moments, a silent agreement was reached, and Etho stepped forward. “Well, we have a bit of a problem. With the Mycelium.”  
Scar smiled awkwardly. “That's a good start! You know, so do we!”  
The joke was slightly awkward, but it brought a small reprise to the tense atmosphere.  
“Not that kind of problem, a more… serious one. There are… zombies? But not like the mob or even Cleo. The Mycelium is making fungus… zombies.”  
“Fungus zombies?” Cub echoed, frowning. Etho nodded, and XB spoke up,  
“Ren was covered in mycelium, and acting really weird. Attacking us, but not with weapons. He took out Grian way faster then anyone should be able to bare handed.”  
“That's… not normal.” Tango said, “Mycelium can't do that, right?”  
“Not usually” confirmed Xisuma. “What have you guys been doing to it?”  
Etho exchanged a glance with XB. “We're not sure. Ren was in charge of Research and Development, and had been working hard on something. He was going to tell us what it was today. He was late to the meeting and Grian went to grab him from the lab. We heard a scream and he came shooting out of the lab with his elytra, told us to get out. Ren was chasing him.”  
“That's.. not good.” False said, resting her hand on the pommel of her sword.  
“Aye aye aye...” Keralis muttered, leaning back into his chair. The room fell silent, as they all attempted to process the situation. After a few minutes, Scar sat forwards, as if to speak, but was interrupted by the soft sound of all their communicators buzzing in unison. With palpable apprehension, Impulse flicked his open. “Oh no.”

'MumboJumbo was slain by Grian using'

Despite knowing exactly what they would see, the rest of the room opened up their communicators too. The air grew heavy with despair. “It might not be related to this, Brian and, Bumbo do strange things all the time,” Keralis said, not really believing himself. Xisuma sighed.  
“It's the same as when Ren killed Grian. Looks like this Mycelium zombie thing spreads.”  
“This is bad.” Cub said, then paused before continuing, “Does anyone know where Mumbo last set his spawn?” The majority of people shook their heads, but Tango spoke up,  
“I know he did a Decked Out run just, like, an hour ago. We could check in there if you want.”  
“Yeah. Let's. Who wants to come?” Cub asked, looking around the room. Every HEP member nodded their agreement, aside from Keralis.  
“I think that it would be good if I stayed behind. We can't all go.” He glanced at the huddle of Resistance members as he spoke.  
“I'll contact Bdubs” Scar said, stepping outside and pulling up his communicator. Cub looked over at Etho, XB, Jevin, Stress and Impulse. They looked tired, and seemed to be in some state of shock.  
“You don't have to come if you don't want to.” he said, and Stress and Jevin visibly relaxed. Impulse, XB and Etho however stepped forward, and Cub nodded. 

Soon, the sky was full of Hermits, streaming out of the HEP HQ, over the Concrete Shop, and down into Decked Out. They soared with varying levels of success down the steep staircase, and touched down in the main lobby. The Iron doors of the Decked Out dungeon were open. Exchanging nervous glances, the group huddled around them.  
“Any idea who's in there?” Asked Cub, glancing at Tango. Tango shook his head.  
“Don't know, but their clank sounds low so I don't think they've been in there long.” The slow heartbeat of the game thumped idly, reverberating in a bass tone in their chests. “It shouldn't be much of an issue.”  
“So, who's going in?” Asked False, glancing around. She was greeted by shrugs and avoided eye contact, before Bdubs stepped forward.  
“I'll go in, it'll be fine. We don't even know if he's actually in there, and if he is I can just run out!” As he spoke, he made his way to the front of the group, stepping onto the first stair with a small smile, before turning around, and making his way up the stairs. It was clear from his pace that the confidence was a farce.  
He got to the top and turned back to them, giving them a small grin, before continuing on into the room. It was silent for a few moments, before Bdubs let out a yell, and stumbled backward into view. False went to go up the stairs after him, but he gestured wildly for her to get out of the way and began stumbling backwards down the stairs, as Mumbo, pale and mycelium riddled, lurched forward around the corner. Bdubs was on maybe the second or third step from the top when he tripped and began to fall, again letting out a cry. Several hands reached for him to catch him, or perhaps soften his fall, but only one actually grabbed him. Mumbo had him by the front of his shirt, towering over him in an uncharacteristically unsettling and intimidating manner. Swords in hand, the gathered Hermits charged, desperate to save their friend, but they were too late, as Mumbo swung Bdubs into the wall hard, the synchronised buzz of their communicators confirming the worst. Mumbo then turned and lunged for Scar, who happened to be closest, but he managed to step away, and the group managed to squeeze their way out of the narrow entryway to the Decked Out preparation room. Tango swiftly blocked the still open iron doors off, and they all stood around, unsure of what to do next as the adrenaline in their systems faded. They had just started to relax, when the sound of Clank being generated echoed from the dungeon. 

They had completely forgotten that someone was in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was started before Decked Out had an end date and I'd already made it into a plot point before it was announced, so just pretend that chronologically this is taking place on October 22nd. Anyway! Looking forward to getting to the poor soul trapped in Decked Out! And also RIP Bdubs I definitely didn't zombify him just because he's hard to write.


	3. Out of the frying pan...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remaining members of HEP and The Resistance attempt to deal with their Decked Out zombie problem.  
> If they thought what happened to Bdubs was bad, they haven't seen nothing yet.

The deep heartbeat of Decked Out had sped up significantly in the time they'd been trying to deal with Mumbo, and was at the point it almost matched the gathered Hermit's frenzied pulses. Tango pulled out his communicator, and began typing out a message, his fingers shaking ever so slightly.

Tango: Who's in Decked Out?  
Zedaph: Me, why?  
Tango: Don't go out, there's a bit of a situation outside there right now  
Zedaph: Ok?  
Zedaph: I'll wait just behind the door  
Zedaph: What's the problem?

Tango's fingers hovered over the keyboard. He wasn't sure what to say. He didn't even know if HEP was planning on making this something everyone knows yet. With a soft sigh, he typed out a short message and pocketed his communicator.

Tango: I'll explain once we've managed to deal with it. It's a bit much to type

“So now what do we do?” He asked, glancing at the gathered Hermits. “Zed's in there but we can't just tell him to leave, we don't need five mycelium… zombies wondering around the server.” his words were met with general murmurs of agreement.  
“What we need,” Said X, stepping to the outskirts of the group, “Is to lure him out. It looks like he'll just chase anyone who comes near, right? So someone gets near, draws him out of the way, then some others go and get Zedaph and we all fly away. Tango, you'd have to close Decked Out but I'm sure everyone would understand.”  
Tango nodded thoughtfully, “Anyone get any other ideas?”  
There was silence.

“Well then.” Xisuma said with a slight grin in his voice, “Who here thinks they can outrun Mumbo?”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grian panted slightly, standing hunched, alone in the middle of Mumbo's base. Cloudy eyes flickered around, but there wasn't a Hermit in sight. He jolted slightly, before straightening up, taking in an especially deep breath of air, and breathing out a small cloud of pale purple spores. His body felt distinctly wrong, and uncomfortable, but he currently didn't have the capacity to care all that much. His attention was caught by the sound of Hooves on wood, and he turned abruptly to see a Zombified Piglin wandering away from Mumbo's portals. He took two quick, stumbling steps towards it, before something stopped him. A whisper in the back of his head, mumbling:

/It's too far gone. Spread the spores. Spread./

He instead skirted around the Piglin, who grunted at him, distrustfully. Grian found himself inclined to growl back, but instead remained silent. His eyes fell upon the portals, a distant memory stirring. The whole world accessible through a series of tunnels, endless possibilities to spread and grow through each one. If Grian still knew how, he would've grinned. Instead, he proceeded, blank faced, into the Portal. As the world began to spin and dissolve around him Grian found himself clinging onto the smooth obsidian sides of the portal, the fungus unfamiliar with the feeling of inter-dimensional travel. He squeezed his eyes shut, as watching the world spin made his head hurt. 

He hardly noticed when he was in the Nether. Since the Fungus didn't value the feelings 'hot' or 'cold', he didn't feel the temperature change that was usually the best indicator of where you were. Instead, he was tipped off by the sounds. The constant bubbling of Lava, the crackle of flames, the ominous echoing creaks of the Bedrock ceiling, looming above him. He stumbled out of the portal and into the wide corridor, looking around with something akin to fear. In the back of his head, the mycelium was screaming, it's frenzied thoughts filling his mind instead of his own.

Danger! Danger! Do not linger!/

He set off along the tunnel, giving the random fires that dotted the place wide birth, all the while hyper aware of the potential for any Hermits that may come. None did, and he found his way to the area above the main Nether hub. He began to climb down, memories of this well-travelled route scratching at the edges of his psyche, and soon he was stood before the great portal that lead to the shopping district. The fungus itched to get there. It was it's home, after all, and the most well trafficked area of the server.

/Spread. Reclaim. It is ours./

Grian stepped through the portal, the nausea overpowered by the cloying desire to go /home/. The bright light of the overworld was painful on his eyes, and he blinked it away as he stumbled out of the portal. His lip curled as he looked out on the desolation of the Fungus's home. /His/ home. Artificial builds clung to the island, suffocating the few spores that remained under the surface. Their pain was his. Green grass, invasive and /disgusting/ covered the majority of the land, too neat. Too perfect. He stepped out of the shadow of town hall, his feet meeting hard concrete instead of the soft, spongy fungus that /should/ be there. Anger boiled in his mind- /the fungus's/ mind.

The shopping district had been spoilt, and Hermitcraft would have hell to pay.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So,” Scar said, addressing the gathered Hermits, “False, you lure Mumbo out, and then X, Cub, Tango and I get Zedaph out. Everyone else, be ready with your swords in case something goes wrong, and have blocks and rockets on hand too. We'll need to block up Decked Out before Mumbo can get out, and it'll probably be quite close. Everyone ready?” The gathered Hermits nodded, splitting into groups. False stepped towards the blocked doors, trying to steady her breathing. Sword in one hand, rockets in the other. Just behind her, the rest of the Hermits were spread out, all of them poised and ready for action.  
“Ready?” Tango asked False, and she nodded, her nerves strangling any words that may try to leave her mouth.

Tango came up to the side, taking out a pickaxe, and as he swung, hitting the first block, a flurry of piston sounds came from within, then a yell.

Tango felt is heart drop, and he began to furiously and desperately chip away at the blocks. It didn't take long to break them but it felt to him like an eternity, as the sound of Zedaph running down the still blocked stairs and smacking into the barricade came, his frenzied moment followed by Mumbo's uncoordinated stumbling. The second block broke and Zedaph sprinted out, panicked, afraid, but very much alive.

There wasn't time for any semblance of celebration, however, as Mumbo came barrelling out hot on Zedaph's heels. There was no time for organisation either, as everyone bolted, many taking to the wing and shooting up the stairs on impulse. It wasn't until the majority of people were up the stairs that they remembered that Zedaph had none of his gear, and was still sprinting on foot away from Mumbo, who was getting dangerously close to catching up. Zedaph could tire, and get hungry. Mumbo could not. X leapt into the air, gliding down the stairs and landing beside Zed, pulling out a spare elytra and rockets and pushing them into his arms. Zed pulled them on and shot into the air, and X was just about to follow when strong fingers closed around his arm. Mumbo pulled on him, lunging for his face. He was saved from damage by his helmet, and fumbled with the strap of his vambrace, finally releasing it, the armour piece clattering to the floor, and causing Mumbo to loose his grip long enough for X to throw his own rockets into his hand. As he flew up and away, Mumbo made another lunge at him, gripping his now exposed forearm. He couldn't hold on long, but the force with which X flew away caused his nails to leave a set of painful scratches in X's arm. He landed messily, shooting through the small two block gap in the blockade they had left for him.

“He scratched me!” X said, a mixture of disbelief and worry in his voice. The scratches weren't deep, but considering the nature of what they were dealing with, very concerning.  
“How do you feel?” Cub asked, kneeling beside him. X frowned.  
“I feel normal. This only infects you if you die to one of them, right?” Cub shrugged.  
“That's what it looks like. Keep en eye on it.”  
Xisuma nodded. “I will.”  
Somewhere behind him, he could hear Zedaph talking in an exasperated tone;  
“Why didn't you tell me it was ZOMBIES! I nearly DIED, I thought he was you coming to let me out, so I walked TOWARDS HIM!!”  
His tone wasn't truly angry, but X could hear the strain in it. He rose to his feet. He was tired, but there was no time for rest. That would come later.  
On Scar's signal, the group began to move, resolving to go back to HEP HQ to try and figure out what to do about the threat. They launched into the air as a group, Tango and Impulse filling Zed in on what was going on on the way. As they soared above the shopping district, X felt himself drifting slightly off course. It was nothing a rocket couldn't fix, but the sudden acceleration made him feel lightheaded, and he blinked a few times, hoping to clear the feeling from his mind. He pulled a golden carrot from his pockets, and chewed on it. He was probably just hungry, he hadn't eaten after being attacked after all, and adrenaline could really take it out of you. Then he caught sight of his arm, and faltered in the air. The scratches, initially light and honestly, very unimpressive, had gotten darker, and he could see the faint outline of his veins through his skin around them. He swallowed, apprehension creeping up on him, and pulled his under-armour over it. He would tell them once they landed, the air was no place to try and communicate to a group as large as this. Beside him, Impulse pulled out his communicator casually, and glanced at it. There were three messages on it, and X came closer to read it over his shoulder. They must've missed these in the chaos of getting Zedaph. 

Stressmonster 101 was slain by BDoubleO100 using ____  
iJevin was slain by BDoubleO100 using____  
Keralis1 was slain by BDoubleO100 using___

Xisuma's heart had already dropped, and somehow it dropped even further, and by the look Impulse shared with him, he felt the same. They drew towards HEP HQ, and saw a single figure, standing, swaying on the balcony beside a cyan bed. It was Bdubs. The group circled in the air above him, unwilling to land. The news of what had happened in the tower, although already obvious just by looking in there, was spread and confirmed by the messages on the Communicators. They needed to go somewhere else, and Xisuma was more then willing to let the others do the deciding. He was hardly listening, his mind foggy, and full of dread. Although he was reluctant to consider it, and even more afraid to accept it, it didn't look like he would be getting a chance to warn the others about his rapidly deteriorating condition.

And if the whispers of spreading and growing that slipped in between his thoughts were anything to go by, it may already be too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was gonna just leave this story.  
> I was wrong.  
> I've been on a writing kick recently, and ALSO a zombie kick.  
> I couldn't stop thinking about this.  
> THEN some people reblogged it on Tumblr to remind them to read this fic later and I was like 'Hrrrngg OK I'M FINISHING THIS SHIT'  
> So here I am :) And here it is!  
> I hope you enjoy, I'm gonna go and immediately start writing chapter 4 now.


	4. ...Into the fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remaining members of HEP and the Resistance need to deal with this zombie problem once and for all, and quickly, as more of their numbers fall to the infection.
> 
> Good thing XB is well versed in dealing with invasive and hard to control funguses, right?

-WARNING: This chapter has some fairly in depth descriptions of Body Horror type themes, and mind control/coercion. If this makes you uncomfortable, please skip past the bit from Xisuma's perspective! I'll summarise what happened in that section in the notes for anyone who wants/needs it!

With the HEP HQ compromised, and no one in the mood to fight another Mycelium zombie so soon after the last one, Scar lead them to Town Hall. There was an attic of sorts behind the clock, he had said, only accessible by elytra. The remains of HEP and The Resistance soared over the shopping district, an eclectic patchwork of shops and paths, grass and mycelium. As they approached the Town Hall, a small figure on the ground looked to the sky, staring at them with distant, pale eyes. It was Grian. Xisuma shuddered. His stare was intense, and focused on him. He didn't want to end up like that. Looking up, he rose and circled in the air as Scar broke open the clockface, and then dived inside along with the rest of them. His landing was clumsy, and he smacked into Etho. Muttering incoherent apologies, he took a seat in the corner of the room, furthest from the light. It made his eyes hurt.  
“We need a solution for all this.” Scar began, standing in the centre of the room. He seemed awkward without Bdubs by his side, supporting him. “We can't just trap them in places. You saw Grian, right in the middle of the path? More people are going to get hurt if we do nothing. Does anyone have any idea how we might be able to cure this?”  
He was greeted with the contemplative silence of deep thought. Everyone was trying to think of /something/ that could help. Everyone, Scar noticed, except Xisuma. He was swaying dangerously in his seat, seemingly struggling to stay upright, and conscious.  
“Xisuma? Are you alright?” he asked, stepping towards him.  
X simply shook his head, his eyes vacant and tired. He raised a shaking arm to show off the scratches, now an angry, ugly purplish colour, the dark veins that webbed out from them, and the paling skin around that area. Seeing the concern on all their faces, X chuckled, somewhat absently. “I think I'm a goner.” he mumbled, and keeled over.  
He would've banged his head hard on the floor if Impulse hadn't lunged forward to catch him, and prop him against the wall.  
“Um-- What do we do?” He asked, still adjusting X's position so that he didn't have any danger of falling over.  
“I think the only thing we can do is just… block him in.” False offered, and she received a few nods of approval. Tango stood, and carefully encased X in a glass box, so they could keep an eye on him. He looked frighteningly sick, and sickeningly pale. If you looked closely, you could see him quivering slightly in his sleep.  
“We /really/ need a solution.” Scar said, almost to himself, walking back to where he had been standing before. The room felt so empty. So many people gone in the space of.. a day? Less? If he was honest with himself, he was beginning to lose hope. Then XB spoke up.  
“In my base, there's a lot of… Infectious material. It's not dangerous or anything but it likes to spread where I don't want it to. And the best way to get rid of it is Fire. It's a fungus and mycelium is a fungus, so… maybe it's worth a try.”  
“I don't think we really have any other ideas” Impulse said, glancing at Scar, “I'd be willing to try.”  
Scar smiled slightly, then nodded. “Ok. Do we all have fire aspect and Flame on our weapons? If not we'll just run down to Lookie Lookie at my Bookie.”  
Tango chuckled, “Even with this crazy zombie stuff, Keralis is still going to make a profit. The guy must be the richest Hermit by now, right?”  
“I think so...” Cub said, smiling ever so slightly. The atmosphere, while hardly light, was easing, and the Hermits, tired and stressed as they were, finally had a potential way out, and the newfound hope was raising their spirits.  
“Well then!” Zed began, standing up, “Let's go and buy some books, shall we?”

With a few final checks on Xisuma, who was still slumped in his glass cage, worsening by the minute, the Hermits gathered by the exit to the cramped little room, and leapt out one by one. They soared along Mainstreet, where Grian was conspicuously absent, and easily travelled the short distance to LLamB, landing in a small group outside it. They needed two fire aspect books, One for Zed and one for Scar, and three flame books, this time for Zed, Impulse and Tango. It was those four who actually headed into the shop, scouring the shelves for what they needed. The rest stayed outside, ready to act as guards should any Mycelium zombies arrive. The mood, however, was still light. As far as they knew, only Grian was actually in the area, and they were all pretty confident in their ability to evade and defeat him.  
“Alright, I'll get the flame books and we can get out of here” Impulse said, crossing into the other half of the shop. The entrance to Lookie Lookie at my Cookie sat in the corner. The shop beyond was quiet, and Impulse paid no mind, searching for the flame books whilst on the other side of the shop, Tango forked over the diamonds for the Fire Aspect books. Scar had promised to reimburse him using City funds, so he didn't mind paying. Although given the circumstances, he'd probably be fine regardless.

The others were laughing at a joke Impulse hadn't quite caught when he noticed a slight noise coming from somewhere behind him. He paused, and turned, but there was no one there. Frowning, he stepped away from the shelves, his eyes falling on the entrance to LLamC. Anxiety prickled in his chest as he approached, flicking his sword into his hand, scared to make any noise, lest something hear him. He paused beside the entrance, and took a deep breath, before leaping into the doorway. The shop was empty. He let out a sigh of relief, and chuckled to himself. Must've been grass or a leaf or something. He stepped back, still facing the entrance, before bumping into someone. They were moderately tall, and were wearing thick, soft clothes. He froze, panic rising in his chest, and looked over to the other side of the shop, which had fallen silent. Etho was staring back at him, and they made horrified eye contact. The person he had bumped into shifted, listing away from him slightly, before suddenly springing into furious action. Impulse was grabbed tight by two gel-like blue hands, and Jevin threw him to the side. Impulse stumbled over himself and hit the wall hard, stunned by shock and the force of the impact, and Jevin took the chance to lunge for him again, but he never reached him. False had come up behind him, her sword already lodged in his back, sticking out of his chest. The Fire Aspect caught and Jevin went up in flames, screeching in horror and fear, staggering away. Where the Mycelium which filled his gelatinous body breached his epidermis, it sizzled and burned with an unpleasant earthy smell. The flames sputtered out before he died, but he was left charred, and wheezing, choking, coughing up great clouds of spores. Through one of the holes burned in his hoodie, a huge, dark clump of Mycelium could be seen inside his chest, and from it all other tendrils splayed out, filling his body. False lunged again, her sword poised to strike him directly through this false, mycelium heart, when Stressmonster smacked into her, knocking her to the floor and sending her sword clattering away. She had come from the direction of her potion shop, and in the confrontation, they had missed her frenzied footsteps approaching from down the street. False rolled, kicking Stress off and staggering to her feet, pulling out her axe. There was more movement from around the shop, Jevin's scream seemed to have caught the attention of the other zombies in the area, and caused them to swarm, as Keralis bolted out of LLamC, having apparently been in the dining area, to join Stress and Jevin. They stood together, Stress and Keralis seemingly attempting to shield Jevin, who was still reeling from his burns. The uninfected Hermits in the shop stood together too, Impulse staggering across the room to stand with his friends. All of them had some kind of weapon drawn. There were a few moments of silence, as the two sides stared each other down, then all chaos broke loose.

The air was filled with the sounds of battle, the clatter of weapons, grunts of exertion and yells of pain coming from both sides. The Hermits were heavily armed, and more numerous, but the zombies were relentless, strong, and hideously violent. Any moment of hesitation was exploited, and the uninfected had to be careful to preserve themselves. They were already fighting their fungus-riddled fates if they died. The zombies fought to keep them cornered in LLamB, and became wise to their tactics. They actively worked to knock swords and bows from their hands, and were careful to avoid their strikes.  
“We just have to get past them!” Cub yelled over the sounds of fighting, “If we can get in the air, we can fly back to safety!”  
“We're trying!” Zed yelled back, narrowly avoiding a blow from Keralis, and stumbling past Jevin. From beside him, there came a bang and a crackle of sparks, as Impulse's totem went off. He stumbled back, frantically eating to try and recover, but was interrupted by the arrival of Grian, who came barreling in from the LLamC entrance to the building, and smacked into Impulse, knocking him flat on the floor.

Seeing an opportunity, the rest of the zombies followed suit, lunging for Impulse as he struggled on the floor. In their haste to infect him, they left the exit completely open.  
“GO!” Impulse screamed at them, trying to delay the inevitable. The hermits hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave him.  
“QUICK!! I CAN'T- !!” Impulse took a hard blow to the stomach, cutting him off mid-sentence. This was all that they needed, and Xb, Cub, False and Scar took to the air in a flurry of rockets, circling above the shop. Zed and Tango lingered, and Tango even started towards Impulse, but Etho held him back.  
“We've got to go! We'll just have to save him after he turns.”  
“Please-- Go-” Impulse managed to sputter, turning to his friends and making desperate eye contact.  
The three of them lingered for a moment longer, before Tango nodded and took to the sky, Zed and Etho hot on his heels. As they turned in the air and headed for the Town Hall's attic, their communicators buzzed solemnly.

/ImpulseSV was slain by iJevin using ___/

Xisuma woke up to see the room empty and still. His eyes felt heavy and sore, and the exposed skin of his arm screamed against the cool air around him. His whole body ached, and he could feel himself shaking very slightly all over, although he was not cold. He wasn't warm either, and now that he thought about it, aside from the pain of his body, he felt very little at all. He sat up, taking his weight off of the wall, and let out a horrified, strangled gasp, freezing in place in shock. He could feel things under his skin. A sickening, sinewy, pulling feeling as he moved. And now that he was becoming more aware of himself, he could feel more, pressing against his eyelids, rattling in his lungs. It was singularly horrifying, and he could hardly bring himself to breathe, so as to avoid the sensation of the mycelium crowding and moving under the surface of his skin. The shaking intensified, and with it the tubers under his skin became impossible to ignore. He felt sick and feverish. His armour pressed against him, uncomfortable and further drawing attention to the mycelium in his body. His helmet was too stuffy.  
He just wanted to take it off. Take.. Take it off. /Take it off. Spread. Take it off/

He didn't realise that he'd lifted his hands to his head before his fingers began to fumble blindly at the release mechanism of his helmet, as if they'd never had to perform the action of taking it off before. He paused, then lowered his hands from his head. What was he doing? The last thing he should do if he was infected was take off his helmet, it could be the only thing stopping his friends from breathing in spores.. /Spores. We must spread. We must reclaim. Take it off. Take it off./

Xisuma again caught himself as his hands raised to his head. He wasn't doing this. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want it--

Fear crystallised sharply inside his chest, perhaps more unsettling then the network of Hyphae that he could feel growing and flexing under his skin. He wasn't in control of himself. Not fully at least. Beside him his communicator buzzed, and he flicked his eyes over to it. Even such a tiny movement was rendered unbearable, but he was at least able to read the text that appeared on the screen. Impulse's death message. He wanted to feel sad but the fungus wouldn't let him, it's joy pervasive and oppressive. He choked out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

The shattered remains of HEP and The Mycelium Resistance swept into the room, and his head jerked up suddenly. He couldn't help but note the sombre looks on all their faces, even as Tango reached into his ender chest to get the iron needed to make an anvil and, by the sounds of things, enchant their weapons with fire enchantments. The fungus recoiled at the thought of fire, and suddenly he was on his feet, stumbling forwards and smacking into the glass, holding himself up by his fists. The noise made the Hermits jump, and they turned to him, each face filled with sadness, and fear. He felt the same way, perhaps stronger, as his body began to hammer on the glass violently, trying to break it. He tried to speak, to cry out for help, to apologise, anything, but his throat closed against his attempts, and so he just wheezed out a pained sigh. But he'd given the fungus an idea, and it began to play with his vocal chords. At first just making faint noises, but then croaking out words with a crude facsimile of his voice.

“Spread.,,.” He croaked, leaning further on the glass. The word was greeted with surprise from the Hermits, who were busily enchanting their weapons. The other zombies clearly didn't, or couldn't, speak.  
“We must.. reclaim… We must.. Spread.. It is Ours….” He spluttered, before beginning to bang on the glass again. His voice grew louder. “It Is Ours! It Is- s – Help---!” X managed to spit, and he found himself hunching over, nausea growing, his fists still firmly planted on the glass, before he was forced to straighten up again. He was all too aware of the sensation of the fungus clinging to his ribs as he moved. The scratches on his arm were raw and dripping slightly, although what with he didn't know.

He didn't /want/ to know.

“H… help…….” he repeated, his throat closing again as the fungus silenced him, and resumed banging on the glass. Tentatively, slowly, Etho edged forwards. He had a pickaxe in one hand and a bow in the other. Xisuma watched him intently, as he broke a small hole in the glass, too small for X to get out of. He found himself shooting a hand through it, and as much of his shoulder as would fit, clawing desperately for someone, anyone to grab. He rejoiced that they all had the good sense to stay away. Etho nocked an arrow and drew back the bow, aiming carefully, before releasing. The arrow hit him directly in the forehead, going clean through his helmet. He was unconscious in an instant, feeling neither the pain nor the heat of the fire that soon enveloped him.

The rest of the Hermits stood mutely as his burning body thrashed and screamed, before finally going still.

/XisumaVoid burned to death whilst fighting Etho/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make good on what I said in the little warning at the beginning of the chapter, in Xisuma's section, he wakes up, almost fully turned, in time to watch the hermits arrive. He bangs on the glass and is generally zombie-y while they enchant their weapons, when Etho takes him out using fire damage from a bow. His fate is, as of right now, unspecified.
> 
> I sent my friend a snippet of the Xisuma section and they thought I should pop a warning for it, since it is pretty gross.
> 
> That being said, thanks for reading this chapter! I'm trying to space out posting these, but sometimes when you're motivated for something it's best to just do it, rather then let your motivation fade.  
> Also, next chapter should be the last one! Unless I write too much, but we'll see ;3  
> Can you tell that I love writing horror? I had to restrain myself from going even worse then I did heheh


	5. Rise and shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the knowledge of how to cure the infected, the Hermits waste no time putting their newfound knowledge to good use.
> 
> It doesn't go very well.
> 
> -WARNING FOR QUITE A LOT OF BODY HORROR, AND ALSO PEOPLE GETTING INJURED. The injuries aren't described in any graphic detail tho-

Xisuma awoke slowly, making no real effort to drag himself from the safety of sleep. The air around him was hot, humid, and full of the sound of torrential rain, blanketing the jungle in a thick sheet of water. As he opened his eyes, he realised he could hardly see ten feet out of the bay of the tower he found himself lying in. His body ached all over as he sat up, trying to shake the stiffness out of his limbs. He reached up to take his helmet off, then froze suddenly, lowering his hands, and starting to inspect himself. He could feel nothing under his skin any more, a sweet relief, but he wanted to be /sure/ that he was clean before he did anything else. There was no evidence of fungus on the outside of his armour, and he took off his newly- regenerated vambrace, and rolled up his under armour, dreading what he would see underneath.

Aside from some wicked scars, his arm was totally fine.

Xisuma let out a long sigh of relief, and chuckled ever so slightly as he took off his helmet, shaking his hair out as he placed it on his bed. He just wanted some fresh air, and walked to the edge of one of his landing bays to look out over the drowning jungle, and watch as the storm raged harder and harder with each passing moment. It was windy, so he was periodically drenched when the wind blew his way, but he didn't care. He was just glad to be himself again.

With one hand, he pulled out his communicator, and flipped it open. There were no new deaths after his own, something he silently rejoiced at, and nothing in chat at all besides a whisper from Etho.

Etho whispers to you: X? Are you alright?

X smiled as he typed out his response, happy to be able to speak honestly, or at all.

You whisper to Etho: Yes. Omw to town hall, wait for me.

He slipped the communicator back into his pocket, and sighed, stepping away from the bay and back towards the bed. It was nice to relax a little, but he was the only zombie cured, and the others were still at large and dangerous. He dug through his ender chest, and pulled on some of his backup gear, being careful to pick out a flame bow and fire aspect sword, then pulled his helmet and vambrace back on. Finally, with a whistle of a firework rocket, he took to the air. 

The storm was wild, and even though it threatened to tear him out of the sky, and buffeted his fragile, insect-like wings, he made it to his Nether portal, and slipped through without incident.  
His suit protected him from the oppressive heat of the Nether, and dried as he soared out of his tower and over a series of great lava lakes to the main Nether hub. He couldn't get over how good it felt to /move/ again, without any of the sickening, stringy resistance under his skin. With a soft buzz, he alighted on the main Nether hub's floor, and paused, remembering how Grian had been just standing there, only a few feet from the portal. He wouldn't be safe the moment he stepped through, and honestly probably wasn't safe even now. And so, he pulled out his sword as he stepped slowly into the portal.

However, the shopping district was empty, and he sighed with relief. Still, he kept his sword in his hand as he leaped into the air and flew up and around into the Town Hall attic. 

All was quiet in the mycelium resistance base. The walls oozed and shifted with hulking tendrils of fungus, and the air was thick and choking with spores. The silence pressed in on all sides, heavy and oppressive. Not even Ren's weak breathing seemed to cut through it, as he laid on the floor, staring idly at the decaying ceiling. He was trying not to move, easier when there was no one around for the fungus to fling him at. However, even his heartbeat sent sickened shivers through his body, each beat hampered and pulled at by clinging, burrowing Hyphae. He could feel them in his lungs too, rattling as he tried to breathe as shallow as he could without passing out. He even stifled his blinks, able to feel the fungus pressing against his eyes on the inside of his eyelids. It was torturous, laying alone in that room with nothing but the mycelium and the weight of his own guilt for company.  
Every now and then, his communicator would buzz. It hurt, disturbing the fungus that threatened to breach his fragile skin, that dug pervasive tendrils into his flesh. His whole body ached idly, inflamed from trying and failing to reject the foreign hyphae that invaded it. The pain pulsed in a sick rhythm, following that of his crippled heart. He was starting to think that if his friends didn't come back to him, he might just putter out on his own. Alone, afraid, and oh so guilty.

His head swam, his thoughts fleeting, indistinct and diluted by the incessant chatter of the fungus.  
/Creator/ it whispered, it's voice grating and numerous, /Help us spread, we wait for you, help us spread and grow. We must reclaim. Make us many. Make us More./  
It's begging was not helping his guilty conscience, or his persistent migraine, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. It wanted him back in the lab, modifying it further. Making it more virulent. It wanted him to turn the whole server purple, to swallow it in a plague of rotting anger. 

It took all of Ren's energy just to stay put. He didn't know how much longer he could keep it up. Exhaustion flickered at the edges of his vision, but even assuming he could sleep through the pain and discomfort, to sleep would be to give the mycelium free reign of his body.

He couldn't allow it. He wouldn't.

And so he continued to lie in place, fatigue and death hanging over him, guilt gnawing at his mind, and the mycelium infesting his body as the seconds ticked invisibly by.

Xisuma's reception into the Town Hall was a lukewarm one, but it was not without reason. The few Hermits that remained were, understandably, afraid and paranoid, and just minutes earlier Xisuma had been trapped in the corner of the room, screeching and clawing for them, baying for their blood. He was careful to show them the plain scars left by Mumbo's attack, the lack of any distinct symptoms of infection, but even then they were wary. 

He supposed he couldn't blame them. He was wary of himself too.

“What we need to do,” began scar, addressing the group in as confident a tone as he could muster, “Is try and get everyone one by one. We've… seen what they do in groups.”  
Beside him, Tango shuddered, and Zedaph gave him a comforting nudge on the shoulder.  
“I'd say we go after Mumbo first. Decked Out is enclosed and we know he's the only one in there...”  
He gave X a sideways glance.  
“Would you still like to come, after what happened?”  
X was inclined to be mildly offended, but he knew Scar just wanted him safe.  
“Yeah, I do. No taking the suit off this time!” he said, trying to inject a touch of humour into his voice. It elicited a few vague smiles, but not much else.  
“Ok, everyone get yourselves ready, and then we'll… go.”

There wasn't really very much to do. X lent Zedaph more spare gear to make up for what he didn't have in his ender chest, and everyone made sure they were stocked up on food. Tango produced some shields from his ender chest, and went around handing them out.  
“Should we maybe get some totems from Impulse's shop?” Asked False, who was already perched on the edge of the makeshift entrance to the attic, looking out over the shopping district.  
“Maybe?” Said Xb, frowning, “Although our last shopping trip hardly went well.”  
False shrugged. “I can check the area maybe? If there are any zombies about, at least we'll know where they are, even if they mean we can't get any totems.”  
“Go for it” Said Cub, who was carefully going through the shulkers he kept in his ender chest, looking for anything useful, “But be careful. We can't really afford to loose anyone else.”  
False nodded. “I will, see you soon,” she said, leaping out of the town hall, and beginning an aeral sweep of the shopping district. Tango and Zedaph muttered in hushed voices, their expressions strained. Scar, Cub and Xb were talking about how fire affected the fungus over in Xb's base. 

Etho was crouched in the corner of the room, where he had been taking down X's makeshift glass prison. He was frowning at some dark splatters on the floor, and gestured Xisuma over to him.  
“This is from your arm, I think” He said, from his position on the floor as Xisuma came up beside him. “It's not blood or anything though. I think we should probably destroy it, just in case.” He stood up beside X, and offered him a flint and steel.  
“Would you like to do the honours?”  
X took the flint from his hands, and frowned down at the stains. His memories of this brief infection were much clearer then he would like, sharp in his mind, like broken glass. He felt a faint sickness trickling down his throat at the image of his arm, dripping and bugling with misshapen veins and tubers of fungus, straining and clawing at Etho, as he calmly drew his bow. He shuddered, and dropped to his knee, igniting the substance with practised ease, and it went up with a violent flare, before settling down and flickering softly until all that was left of it was a burn mark on the floor.  
X found himself just kneeling there, staring. Not at the floor, but past it, enraptured in unpleasant memories and the ghosts of feelings that he just couldn't shake. They were claggy, like tar, unwelcome and clinging onto his tired mind.

He flinched as Etho put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and as he turned to look at the man, he realised that he was crying, warm tears slipping from his eyes. Etho gave him a sorry, comforting look, but said nothing. X was grateful for it. The last thing he needed was pity, or more words to take in. After a few minutes, he rose to his feet, and raised his visor to wipe at his eyes, and give Etho a small smile, before lowering it again, and turning back to the centre of the room.

False swept into the room, dragging a cold draft behind her, and landed neatly beside Scar. She had a bundle of totems in her hands, and placed them on the floor, careful not to trigger then prematurely.  
Scar's expression darkened ever so slightly. Not angry, but dangerously close.  
“False? You were meant to just scout it out, and let us know the coast is clear. Not actually get the totems.”  
False paused, recognising the look on Scar's face and considering her words.  
“There were no zombies around, so I thought it'd be quicker to just get them myself. I was very careful, and I checked over and over. I know you're worried but it was fine, Scar.”  
Scar looked from her, to the totems, then back again, and sighed, deciding to let it go. They were all stressed and the last thing they needed was friction in the group.

“Ok. Everyone, take a totem, then let's go.”  
The small group clustered together, all scooping a totem into their offhands, before crossing the room to the broken clockface. The air was tense, as anxiety and adrenaline began to course through them. Scar went first, and the rest swiftly followed. They flew deftly over X and Keralis' concrete factory, past the HEP HQ, where they could see Bdubs hunched up inside, still grinning his creepy grin. They knew where they were going after dealing with Mumbo.

If they dealt with Mumbo.

The barricade at the entrance of decked out was still in place, covering the hole which contained the steep staircase down. They gathered around it, as Tango gingerly dug out one block, and peered into it. Mumbo was just visible at the bottom of the staircase, standing idle and swaying gently on the spot. Tango proceeded to dig out a few more blocks as quietly as he could, creating a four block hole for them to drop through. They were all nervous. It was plain to see in the fervent glances and drawn out wait for someone, anyone, to go first.

In the end, False was the first to take the plunge, followed closely by Etho. The sound of their boots hitting the Nether Brick stairs was enough to garner the attention of Mumbo, and he jolted upright and turned to them. He was in a worse state then he had been before, thick, engorged veins, dark on his face were visible even from this far away, and a vile web of mycelium fibres criss-crossed his too-pale skin. He threw himself at the stairs as Xisuma jumped down. He was the last in, and already had his sword drawn. Mumbo was slow, and unwieldy, his limbs uncoordinated as he attempted to navigate the stairs, but he was still making progress despite his frequent falls, at an uncomfortably fast rate. Arrows began to whiz down the stairs, at first from False and Cub, who already had their bows in hand, and soon after from the others. 

Xb was the first to land a hit, the arrow lodging itself squarely in Mumbo's shoulder, causing him to yell and loose his footing as he recoiled from the impact. He burst into flames as he fell, the indistinct cry morphing quickly into a panicked, wild screech, and he hit the ground hard, as a second arrow found it's way into his chest. The flames that engulfed him intensified, and then sputtered out alongside Mumbo's cries.

Seven communicators buzzed in unison.

/MumboJumbo burned to death whilst fighting XbCrafted/ 

They all leapt into the air, and soared down the stairs, alighting on the main floor of the Lobby.  
X wandered over to the discarded Vambrace and stooped to pick it up, frowning. It was dented alarmingly, and if he hadn't discarded it, Mumbo probably would've broken his wrist. He almost wished he'd left it on, but he knew that if he had he'd probably have sill ended up a zombie, just this time with a broken wrist. He cast it to the ground again as he began to walk towards the iron double doors of decked out. They were closed now, and one was still partially blocked. The seven of them waited outside the doors, silent, waiting for any sign of life from within.

After a few moments of silence, they heard a faint groan, and the sound of someone rising from a bed. Mumbo's dress shoes squeaked as he rounded the corner to the stairs, still shaking out his aching limbs. He looked confused, disoriented, and really rather awful, but also undeniably free of the Infection. His skin, albeit a little paler then usual, was clear of the bulging veins and web of fungus sitting just below the skin, and his deep red eyes were full of life, and attentive. He gave them a puzzled look, noting the exhaustion and worry in their expressions.

“What happened?” He asked, puzzlement in his voice and a frown on his face.  
There was an awkward silence, while they searched for the words to tell him.  
“What do you last remember?” Tango prompted. Mumbo's frown deepened as he tried to remember.  
“Um, It's kind of hazy, but I remember… Grian? In my base. He was acting weird, and looked weird, then he… Attacked… me..? I guess I respawned here, but I don't remember ever aching so much after respawning... I also remember..” His eyes flickered to X,  
“Xisuma? I think I was chasing him or something. I don't know why. Honestly everyone, I'm just as confused as you all are,” He let out an awkward chuckle.

“Well, Grian did attack you, and you did respawn here.” X started, choosing his words carefully, “But you respawned.. different. As a sort of… zombie.”  
Mumbo gave him a look that was nothing short of incredulous. X tried not to take it personally. It did sound pretty outlandish, and the man was clearly still rather out of it.

“You went after us when we came to try and find you.” Scar supplied, with a frown. “You managed to scratch Xisuma and-” He paused, suddenly looking slightly lost, and sad. “...And you killed Bdubs.”

“O- Oh.” Mumbo stuttered, visibly confused and unsure of himself. “I-… that's- not.. good.”  
Scar sucked in a sigh. “No, it's not. But we're on our way to cure him next. He went on to infect Jevin, Stress and Keralis as well, and then they got Impulse… Basically, we have a lot of work to do.”

Mumbo's expression had shifted to a place close to horror by this point, and he seemed to be having trouble processing all this information. Even so, it was clear that he was somewhat morbidly intrigued. “How did this start?” He ventured, glancing amongst the group. Scar glanced to Xb and Etho, silently asking them to explain.

“Well,” Etho began, tiling his head slightly, “Ren was messing around with the mycelium's DNA. Not sure why, probably wanted to make it spread faster or something? Either way, he managed to make it a very infectious zombie fungus, and got himself infected. He tried to attack us all in the base, but only got Grian. It's just been escalating from there, really.”

Mumbo's face creased in worry, and he brushed his fingers through his messy hair, an anxious habit of his.  
“But you can cure it, right..? Yeah. I'm not a zombie any more! Or at least I hope not,” He said, suddenly beginning to examine the back of his hands for any signs of something amiss.  
Cub chuckled, “No, you're not. We've already got Xisuma to prove that it works.”  
Mumbo turned to X quizzically. He realised that he'd never elaborated beyond him getting scratched.

“When you scratched me, I got infected too. But I,” He felt his voice quietening as he continued, “I still had full awareness of everything going on around me and… inside me.”

A heavy silence fell on the group, no one quite sure what to say. X had yet to tell them what he experienced while he was infected, but if the tears that had streamed down his his Mycelium-addled face, and filled his wild bloodshot eyes as he begged for help were anything to go by, it had been bad.  
“Sorry X.” Mumbo said finally, and Xisuma let out a little snort.  
“Don't worry about it, not much you could've done. Anyway, we should get a move on. Still need to cure six more people.”  
“Bdubs is still in HEP HQ, right?” False asked, and was answered with a nod.

“Mumbo?” Scar asked, as the group began to walk towards the exit to Decked Out, “What do you want to do now?”  
Mumbo frowned. “What do you mean?”  
“Do you want to come and help us cure the rest? Don't feel like you have to or anything, I'd expect you to just want to go back to your base, but I thought I'd offer.”  
Mumbo considered this for a moment, then nodded to himself. “I'd like to help. I'll try to anyway. How do you cure people, by the way?”  
Xb hung back, and joined in the conversation, drawing level with the two of them. “We burn them. Destroys the Mycelium before they respawn, I think. Whatever it is, it cures people and that's the important part.”

Mumbo nodded as he spoke, veering across the lobby to reach one of the ender chests tucked in beside the doorway that lead from the great lobby into the little corridor that connected the entrance to the dungeon and the shop. He opened it up, and rummaged inside, trawling through a few shulker boxes, before seemingly finding the one he was looking for. It was full of spare gear, enchanted Diamond armour and tools that glittered in the low light of the Lobby. It wasn't netherite, but it would do.  
They waited as he hastily pulled it on, and stuck all the shulkers back into the ender chest. Then continued to wait when he realised he'd managed to forget rockets for his Elytra, and had to do a little half jog back to the ender chest to retrieve some. Tango made a hushed, playful comment about Mumbo being a spoon, and the little group laughed amongst themselves. 

It was good to have something to laugh about.

The mood sombred as they flew up and out of Decked Out and towards the HEP HQ. Everyone had a weapon drawn, and as they'd taken off, Cub had made a suggestion about staying in the air and shooting Bdubs from the sky, since the zombies didn't seem to have any ranged capabilities.

That plan was quickly shattered when they saw the bow clutched loosely in Bdubs' hand.

“Where did he get that??” Zedaph shouted over the wind, his face scrunched in mild confusion,  
“He must've picked it up from Stress or someone, when he killed them!” Etho yelled back, soaring a little out of the way and keeping his eye trained on the bow, which Bdubs had began to clumsily raise, having had his attention drawn by the shouting. He drew an arrow, and nocked it with an unpractised hand, before raising the whole thing up, and loosing an arrow into the air. The hermits scattered as the arrow flew with surprising force through the air, threatening to hit Xb has he wheeled away. Bdubs was already drawing another arrow, clearly more confident now, and they all came to the silent consensus that they would have to act fast if they didn't want to be shot out of the sky.

Cub took the first shot, drawing his bow as he banked hard in the sky, and loosing an arrow that hit Bdubs hard in the gut. Bdubs folded in on himself on reflex as he ignited with a strangled scream, his hands scrambling for another arrow, desperate to get in another shot before his inevitable end. As he did this, False hefted her sword, and flew out, twisting in the air and barrelling towards her infected target. He had soon had the arrow nocked, and she pulled her wings in tighter, hoping to reach him before he was able to draw the arrow back, pulling the sword behind her, ready to strike with the full force of her dive behind her.

She had only a few feet to go when Bdubs whipped around, bow fully drawn, and released the string.

False's sword connected with his side, the strike hard and definitive, strong despite the brightly coloured sparks thrown up by the activation of her totem. Bdubs collapsed, still in flames, and fell from the ledge. 

He was dead long before he hit the ground. 

/BdoubleO100 was killed by FalseSymmetry/ 

However, False was in no better state. Arrow firmly lodged deep in her chest, she spiralled out and into an uncontrolled dive, crashing unceremoniously into the sea behind Mt.Scarmore. The others circled high in the air, pulling into their own dives, hoping to retrieve her, but only getting as far as to skim the surface of the sea, False always just out of reach. She was sinking rapidly, her body still aside from her hair, which trailed limply through the water as she descended deeper and deeper. It wasn't particularly deep, or even dangerous around the Shopping District, but the sea is fickle, and a very bad place to be when unconscious.

Scar was the first one to actually venture below the surface of the water, trying to retrieve her. Usually, Scar getting himself in a dangerous situation would be cause for concern, Drowned were hardly Scar Safe, after all, but they all knew him to be a proficient swimmer, the best on the server, even, and the small group of Hermits contented themselves with landing on the beach on the back side of Mt.Scarmore, ready to help scoop the two of them out of the water, and tend to False once she was on land. Scar dragged her along through the water, just about managing to prop her head above water. His face was twisted in exertion and worry.

Once they finally reached the shore, Scar trod water as he attempted to heft False onto land. She wasn't particularly heavy, but he was already tired from dragging her over, and it took the help of both Xb and Mumbo to pull her out onto land, all being very careful to avoid jostling the arrow in her chest. She let out a small grunt of pain, and sighed, her eyes fluttering open as her friends set about trying to help her.

It didn't take very long for them to realise they didn't know what they were doing. 

Normally, they could afford to just leave an arrow be, or wouldn't live long enough for it to be an issue anyway, but this was an exception, and no one really knew how to proceed.  
“I'm pretty sure you're not meant to pull these things out??” Zedaph said, hovering worriedly behind cub, who was holding the arrow by the shaft, evaluating his options.  
“Probably not?” Said Mumbo, running his hands through his hair, and pacing a few feet from the bundle that had formed around False.  
“Does anyone have a health potion?” Cub asked, raising his voice above the general anxious chatter that had broken out among the gathered Hermits.  
“Or an ender Chest?” He added, hopefully.  
“Oh, I do!” Tango said, stepping around to Cub's side, and placing the chest down beside him.  
Cub wasted no time in rummaging around in there, and soon Etho had joined him, their hands not once brushing as they slipped into separate pocket dimensions to access their respective items.

Cub retracted his hand first, pulling out a Shulker box filled with potions, but a quick rummage revealed nothing but Fire Resistance and Invisibility. He silently cursed his own unpreparedness, and watched with veiled hope as Etho produced his own shulker, only to be greeted with a twin expression of disappointment from under his mask.

“You guys need some potions?” Came a confident voice from beside them, and they all looked up to see Bdubs striding down the beach towards them. None of them had heard him land, so he must've come from some way up the beach. He dropped to his knees beside the ender chest and began to root around in it, pulling out a Shulker box with a triumphant “Ah-hah!”

The man looked horrible, his tan skin sickly, and his smile not quite as wide as they were used to. Some of his usual energy and bravado felt… forced, but it served it's purpose in lifting their spirits as he produced one of the red potions from the shulker box.  
“And sure enough, Bdubs saves the day, because I am always prepared!” he announced, handing the potion to Cub, and giving False a look of concern.

“What happened, anyway?” he frowned, staring at the arrow that was lodged almost to the fletching in her chest.  
“Uh, You happened, Bdubs.” Scar said simply, tilting his head slightly. Bdubs seemed to understand.  
“Oh- Well it's good to know that I was still such a good shot.” He said, trying to joke around the tough topic. 

Beside them, Cub was trying to lay out a plan with False about how to best deal with the arrow.  
“We're going to pull it out, then you drink the potion as fast as you can after, alright?”  
She nodded through gritted teeth, taking the potion from Cub, and taking a deep breath. Cub grabbed the arrow, and braced himself against the ground. He wanted it out fast, preferably in one go, so as not to hurt False too much.  
“Ready?” He asked, unsure as to whether he was ready himself. The others gave them space, not wanting to get in the way, and wary of crowding them. The worried glances they were exchanging weren't doing wonders for Cub nor False's moods.

False nodded to him, unwilling to wait any longer.

Cub pulled as hard has he could, the shaft slipping slightly, alarmingly, between his fingers. He doubled down on his grip and prayed that the fletching would provide more grip as he began to push off the ground with his legs.  
The arrow was stubborn, but after a few seconds of determined pulling, it began to move, sliding reluctantly, almost languidly, out of her chest. With a final, hard tug, the arrow came out fully with a soft Shhf noise, and False downed the potion as fast as she could, her chest burning and roaring with pain.  
Cub discarded the arrow, and looked down at her with worry as the potion kicked in, taming the pain into a dull ache. She breathed a sigh of relief, and sat up, ignoring the headache that sprang up in protest. She hated being down and hopeless like that. She was just lucky that Bdubs had the potion, or she may have been out of commission entirely, having to rest at her base until the arrow was gone.  
She blinked hard, squinting around. The sun was too bright, but she chalked that up to the adrenaline in her system, and her body still reeling from the fall. Around her, people had began to chatter amongst themselves, seemingly content she was ok.  
Scar seemed to be explaining to Bdubs the details of the situation, and despite his jokes and general boisterousness, he seemed to be itching to apologise. She wasn't about to hold it against him, that would be ridiculous. He had been infected after all.  
She drew her feet under her, preparing to stand up, and was greeted by Cub, offering a hand. She took it, and pulled herself up, a little unsteady, but feeling alright.  
“Thanks,” she said to him, pulling out a Golden Carrot and munching on it hungrily. He gave a slight smile. “No problem.”

It was then that Bdubs approached her, looking unsure of himself, something rare for the man.  
“Hey, ah, sorry about that.” he said, uncomfortable. False sighed.  
“No need. You weren't yourself.”  
He flashed her a smile, before stepping away.

All this trouble to cure just three Zombies, and so many more to go. 

False shuddered. 

It was a big task, and in the shadow of the great Mt. Scarmore, she suddenly felt quite small.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, at this point I should just rename this fic 'The Hermits attempt to do something. It goes poorly.'
> 
> Good ole' Falsie, takin an arrow to the chest like a champ. I'm glad she's fine.  
> She is fine right?  
> right?? 
> 
> Also I may or may not have totally underestimated how much I would have to write in order to wrap up this story. I thought this would be the last chapter! But there's likely to be at least two more. Maybe more! This chapter alone is 5k words, that's easily 3k more then the rest of the chapters.
> 
> Oh and how could I forget? We finally get to check in on Ren! He's doing........ very badly!
> 
> hope you enjoyed the chapter, goodnight!


	6. Making Headway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The numbers of healed Hermits grow, and things seem to be looking up. Although nothing is ever that simple.

After a few minutes of rest, False felt well enough to get going again. Maybe 'well' was the wrong word. She felt pretty awful if she was honest with herself, almost sick. Which didn't make too much sense, considering she'd been shot, but her chest hardly ached anymore, and she was confident in her ability to help the deal with the rest of their infected friends. Besides, she'd had her moment of weakness and didn't intend to have any others. It had been uncomfortable enough to be vulnerable just that once. The others didn't need to know how bad she felt, after this she could go home and sleep and recover all she wanted. That would be nice.

“I'm feeling better now guys. We can get moving again.” She said, smiling softly to her companions. She was greeted with worried looks, doubtful but unwilling to take it up with her. She sighed, stifling a small chuckle. “Really. That health potion really helped. And we shouldn't wait around too long, there are still zombies around.”

From beside her, Scar sighed. “Well False, if you’re sure...”

False nodded, trying to inject confidence into her expression, and hide the headache that was brewing from the movement. “I'm sure.”

Scar nodded, and pushed himself fully onto his feet from the cliffside where he'd been leaning, taking two steps to get to the main body of the group.   
“So, who next?” He asked simply.

Tango and Zed perked up, exchanging a glance. And when no one else offered up a suggestion, Zed hastily stepped in. “Impulse!”  
“Please”, added Tango, with a hopeful half smile.  
Scar glanced around, inviting any objections, but none came.  
“Alright then! We'll go and get Impulse.” He glanced at Bdubs, “Do you need anything?”  
Bdubs nodded “Sword, elytra, I've lost everything! But,” he added quickly, toning down his dramatic tone somewhat, “I am always prepared! I have spares in my ender chest.”  
Scar smiled. “Good! I... don't think the funds of city hall could take making you new gear. And I'm pretty sure Xisuma has already given all of his away to Zedaph.” He gave X a sideways glance, and the admin let out a short laugh.  
“Not even close, I've got a whole shulker full of spare gear left in my ender chest.”

Even still, Bdubs insisted on using his own stuff, and since his backup gear had all the necessary enchantments on them, no one objected.

Zedaph paced, restless and impatient, as Tango leaned against the sheer cliff face of Mt. Scarmore, watching his friends. False, checking her weapons over, Scar, chatting to Bdubs as he pulled on his armour, Cub and Xb, talking in hushed tones, Mumbo, looking out over the ocean, and Xisuma, watching False. His expression was unreadable, and dark. Tango frowned at this. Concern, he'd understand, but Xisuma's expression was just a little too far from that for his liking. It was bordering on fear. 

It was then that, his, and Xisuma's, attention was grabbed by Scar stepping away from Bdubs, now fully kitted out in spare diamond armour, and beginning to speak.  
“Is everyone ready? And, uh, does anyone know where Impulse last set his spawn…?”  
His eyes flickered to Tango and Zedaph as he asked this, and Tango shrugged.  
“I don't know exactly but I think he set it somewhere in the shopping district,” Zedaph supplied, visually unsure of himself. “we should probably just start looking in Keralis' shop. He's bound to be around there somewhere, right?”  
“I guess?” Scar replied, glancing at the gathered Hermits, unsure. They were all uncharacteristically quiet, probably due to the dire situation and stresses of the day.  
“We should probably get going then.” Said Etho, uncrossing his arms and pulling out a rocket. The others followed suit, and soon they were airborne, banking over the top of Mt. Scarmore, and gliding down to land atop LLAMB, catching a glimpse of the inside as they swept in for the landing. It was still littered with Impulse’s scattered items.

“That’s odd,” Observed Xisuma, his eyebrows furrowing in a frown beneath his helmet, “They should’ve despawned by now.”  
Tango shrugged, “Yeah but people shouldn’t be turning into zombies either. Probably just one of those things.”  
Zedaph joined in with a snicker, “Maybe they’re zombie items!”  
Xisuma looked less than amused, but didn’t object as Tango and Zed clambered down inside of LLAMB to gather up Impulse’s stuff and stow it in a shulker box.

The Hermits on the roof had a clear view of the area around LLAMB, and they kept watch as Zed and Tango worked below. The coast was clear, and Tango and Zedaph clearly hadn’t run into any trouble, so those on the roof allowed themselves to relax somewhat, still keeping a close eye on their surroundings, and an ear on their companions, but otherwise using the opportunity to have a bit more rest.

Below them, Zed and Tango went back and forth, transferring items from the ground to the shulker. It was by no means hard work, just tedious, sorting Impulse’s assorted items from their own. Not to mention Tango’s nearly full inventory meant he really couldn’t handle all that many items at once, and Zed mixed up his borrowed items with Impulse’s on more then one occasion. But their mood was high, and they joked and laughed together as they worked, excited and proud to have managed to salvage so much stuff. Only Impulse’s sword seemed to be missing, but they knew their friend would be grateful to not have to remake all his stuff regardless.

Tango hefted the near-full shulker box, carrying it to the stacked up anvils which lined the wall of Keralis’ shop. Convenient for enchanting, and for cheering up their recently undead friend with a silly name for his shulker box!  
“We might be getting a little ahead of ourselves, but… What should we name it?” Tango asked, glancing over to Zedaph, who snorted at his own jokey name idea.  
“How about-- What was that?” Zedaph said, his face falling in an instant as be began to glance around, twirling on the spot. Tango had heard nothing, and threw Zedaph a weird look.  
“Heard what?”  
“A sort of scraping- there it is again!”  
Tango heard it this time, a grating, metallic scrape, the unmistakable sound of a sword dragging against a concrete floor. Tango found himself backing away from the anvil into Zedaph, who jumped at the contact, but opted to stay close. Neither could really tell where the sound was coming from, and their constant moving wasn’t helping either.   
The panic from inside didn’t go unnoticed on the roof, as the Hermits scrambled to attention.  
“Um, guys..!” Called Mumbo, from his perch on the roof, “Can any of you see anything?”  
“No!” Bdubs replied, frowning, and this sentiment was repeated by the rest of the Hermits on the roof. Whatever, or whoever was making the noise was not outside or inside LLAMB, which left only one place they could be.

Tango screamed as Impulse, eyes wild and clouded, skin taught and pale, lunged furiously at him from out of Lookie Lookie at my Cookie, swinging the sword they had thought lost in a vicious arc through the air. He would’ve been cleaved clean in half if Zedaph hadn’t pulled him back, giving him the time to hastily thrust a shield into his hand and block the blow. The sword lodged itself deep into the wood of the shield, and Tango staggered from the recoil, nearly knocking Zed over as Impulse braced himself against his shield and ripped the sword out with a strength seldom seen in their usually mild friend. Impulse staggered back two steps, before lunging once again, however this time Tango was ready, and he parried the blow, failing to break Impulse’s grip but still causing him to stumble, and took the chance to sprint backwards out of LLAMB, dragging Zedaph alongside him. Impulse recovered from his stumble, and fixed them with a venomous glare that didn’t at all fit his face, before charging at them with a violent screech. Tango again went to parry his blade, but Impulse withdrew it, causing Tango to leave himself entirely open for attack as Impulse plunged the blade towards his side.

However, Zedaph got there first. To say the man was incompetent at combat would be doing him a disservice, but his parry was clumsy, and caused him to stumble and fall dramatically. However, he’d still managed to fend off Impulse’s sword and both he and Tango were left unscathed. Tango grabbed Zed by the back of the shirt, and launched into the air on his elytra, deftly avoiding Impulse as he lunged desperately at them, and coming to a messy landing on the roof beside his friends, all their bows already drawn. And, with Zed and Tango out of the way, they opened fire, raining flaming death upon Impulse, who’s uncoordinated feet weren’t fast enough to carry him to the relative safety of cover before he was already ablaze, so full of arrows it was hard to tell who would be listed as the cause of his demise.

Everyone’s communicators buzzed in unison, however as X began to pull his out, they all buzzed once more.

X didn’t think he’d ever opened a communicator faster, a horrible, sickly sinking feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach as the rest of the Hermits exchanged looks and pulled their communicators out as well.

Impulsesv burnt to death while fighting Cubfan135

Ijevin burnt to a crisp while fighting Vintagebeef

“Oh-!” Breathed X, quickly rising to his feet, eyes flickering around the shopping district, straining for any sign of Beef. The whistle of a rocket caught his attention, and he turned to see Beef swerving into the sky, twisting around to land atop Llamarama, and pulling his bow to engage with something on the ground. 

Behind him, Tango was stowing Impulse’s discarded sword into the shulker box, having already gone down to retrieve it. X saw False staring at Beef too, and he shifted, uncomfortable. He didn’t like the look in her eyes. Almost… angry, bitter, and incredibly un-False like. He kept trying to tell himself he was imagining things, or projecting, or something, but she just didn’t sit right with him. She’d technically died at the hands of a zombie, after all. And asymptomatic or not, he couldn’t help but feel the ghost of mycelium threads chasing his veins whenever he looked at her. He suppressed a shiver.

His attention was diverted by Tango breaking the shulker and standing triumphantly, sharing a few amused words with Zedaph. X sighed, allowing the innocuous interaction to ground him. Everything would be fine. He had to believe that if they were to make any meaningful progress. Besides, False wasn’t actively trying to hurt them. If she did try anything, he was confident in the group’s ability to take her down before anything escalated too far.

By now, most of the group had cottoned onto Beef’s location, and they shot into the air, flying the short distance to Llamarama in a matter of seconds, Tango and Zed scanning the ground for Impulse all the while. Beef was still diligently shooting down at someone, Stress it seemed, but paused to look around with mild surprise and not so mild confusion as the group settled around him. Every face was flushed with concern, and X quickly stepped forwards and took Beef by the shoulders, as Cub, False and Xb took over shooting down at Stress, who was pacing furiously, bitter hatred and frustration in her foggy eyes as she did all she could to avoid the arrows.  
“What’s going on?” Beef asked as X not so gently pulled him away from the edge of Llamarama. Xisuma ignored the question, instead offering one of his own.  
“Did they get you? Did you get scratched or bitten or anything?”   
Beef seemed reluctant to engage with X, he’d never seen the man so distressed, but the uncharacteristic desperate note in his voice seemed to strike a chord with him.  
“No! No, I didn’t get bit” He said, with an awkward half-laugh in his voice. “What’s gotten into you X, what’s happening?”  
X hadn’t let him go, and was clearly still looking for any obvious wounds. Scar stepped forwards and placed a hand on Xisuma’s shoulder, wordlessly asking him to stop. X obliged, stepping back and letting Beef go, turning his attention to Tango and Zed, who he went to quietly, and hopefully more gently, to inquire about their condition. Scar turned to Beef, who was looking more confused then ever.  
“It’s pretty hard to explain, uh, The mycelium guys were doing experiments and somehow that made the mycelium turn people into zombies? I’m not really sure, honestly, I’m just trying to fix it. You see, Ren, who did this, was the first zombie and so we can’t really ask him.”  
Beef frowned, his face twisting with concern and worry.  
“Zombies? Really?”, he glanced over the edge, where Stress was now aflame, desperately trying to beat the flames down, but failing as they climbed higher and higher up her torso, “Oh man. That is not good.” he let out a small chuckle at how obvious that was, then sighed, pulling out his communicator and scrolling through the deaths.  
“So who do you have left to cure?” he asked, the chat skipping back down as Stress’s death appeared at the bottom. Scar hesitated, the loud smack of the high-five Xb and Cub exchanged making him jump slightly.  
“Just Grian and Ren, I think… Oh! And Keralis. Just those three.”  
Beef nodded silently, smiling a little.   
“That’s not too bad, only three. You do know where they are right?”  
Scar nodded.   
“They should all be in the shopping district!”  
Beef inclined his head, opening his mouth to speak and being interrupted by a yell from below.

“Ah- Shoot, Help!” 

Any of the group who wasn’t already at the edge of the llama gathered around to see Impulse sprinting down the sandstone street that ran through Beef’s little corner of the shopping district, Keralis hot on his heels. The man was flushed with exertion, his skin unusually pale and dark bags under each eye. Etho had his bow out in an instant, and aimed carefully down at the fast-moving figure as he drew closer to their perch upon Beef’s Llama shop. Behind him, Tango looked just about ready to leap down there and fight Keralis face to face, only staying put because he didn’t want to run the risk of getting hit by Etho’s shot. 

After several moments of careful aiming, filled only with the agonising sound of Impulse’s harsh breathing and desperate footsteps as he fought to outpace Keralis, Etho loosed his arrow. It sailed through the air and planted itself neatly in Keralis’s forehead, knocking him off balance, stopping him in his tracks, and most importantly, igniting him on fire. He stumbled, scrabbling for the arrow shaft in his head, trying to pull it out. Impulse used the opportunity to put as much distance between himself and Keralis as possible, swerving into Llamarama and climbing up onto one of it’s outstretched legs using the small pile of hay Beef had arranged there. Tango and Zed swooped down to join him, Tango still clutching the shulker. The two of them nearly knocked him to the floor with the force of their hug, as from the head of the Llama more arrows found their mark in Keralis, who soon collapsed, his body leaving behind nothing but a few XP orbs and a hearty pile of ashes.

Impulse wormed his way out of the hug with some difficulty, huffing and puffing, still aching all over from the infection. He couldn’t really remember his time as a zombie, his mind all fuzzy around the edges, but he could certainly feel the repercussions. Tango and Zedaph relented, both visibly reluctant to step away, but giving him space all the same. He slumped to the floor, allowing himself a little rest, just for the moment.   
“How’re you feeling then, Impulse?” Tango said, his mouth pulling into a little half-smile. Impulse let out a half sigh-half chuckle, and shook his head.  
“Pretty Awful, actually, if you can believe that.”  
Zedaph let out a dramatic gasp of mock disbelief.   
“I can’t!”  
Impulse chuckled softly once again, and Tango simply shook his head, amused. 

“Look what we got for you,” Tango said, smile widening somewhat as he placed the shulker box in front of Impulse, who sat up slightly and leaned forwards, opening it up and rooting around in it’s contents.  
“You saved my stuff! Thank you,” He said, giving Tango and Zedaph an appreciative smile, before sorting through it all, pulling on his armour.  
“No problem, no problem.”   
“Yeah, we only nearly died for it three times!” Zedaph added, his accompanying grin just a little too strained, showing a fraction of the apprehension behind those words. Zed knew he wouldn’t be forgetting the hate-filled expression Impulse had worn as he stabbed and swung at them any time soon.   
However if Impulse noticed this, he didn’t comment, simply giving them a concerned look.  
“Three times? How? Are you two alright?”  
“We’re fine, you just saw your chance and took it back in Looki- Keralis’ shop, ’s all.” Tango said, waving away the question. He was only slightly lying, leaving out how shaken the two of them were from the encounter. Impulse’s brow furrowed.  
“Wait, you mean that… I almost killed you three times?”  
“Yeah, but you were all… fungus-icated. No hard feelings.” Tango shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets as he spoke.  
“You even set a trap for us, I think.” Zedaph said, tilting his head slightly, “And the two of us totally fell for it!”

Impulse looked more confused as ever, trying to retrieve the memories but meeting only static, and the ghosts of uncomfortable sensations and emotions that were not his own. Sifting through the indistinct haze of his short term memory was impossible.

“A trap?” He prompted, flinching ever so slightly as a rocket whistled from up above, carrying someone into the air behind him. He didn’t pause to see who it was, even as they landed behind him and began to walk up to their little huddle.  
“You must have collected all your items before they despawned when you were a zombie,” Tango began, nodding to Scar in greeting as he came level with Impulse, who smiled to Scar as well, giving him a short greeting so as not to interrupt Tango. “Because they were all scattered on the ground when we arrived, and it had been waaay longer than five minutes. We’re talking, like, half an hour later. Probably more. Zed and I went to pick them up for you, and had them all packed up when you attacked us with your sword, which I guess you kept. We were fine though.”

To say this disturbed Impulse was an understatement. He’d tried to kill his friends. He would’ve killed his friends. And he couldn’t even remember it. Just knowing that he had become a mindless killing machine, not even knowing the extent of what he did unsettled him. And what’s more, it meant that the zombies were capable of deception. Had they always been able to do that, or were they learning? He wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to know.

He flinched as Scar put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and offered a soft smile. Impulse smiled back, trying to hide his growing unease.   
“We’re going to go looking for Grian soon, would you like to come with us or go and relax somewhere? Don’t feel like you have to come with us if you don’t want to.” Scar shifted his gaze from Impulse to Zed and Tango. “That goes for you too.”  
Impulse felt their eyes on him, and he squirmed. He knew that whatever he chose to do, they’d go with him. They wanted to be there to support him, and he appreciated that, but at the same time he wasn’t in the right mood or place to be deciding for them. On top of that, his desire to support his friends battled with how awfully tired he felt. He just wanted to rest, but he needed to help his friends. Something of his internal struggle must’ve showed in his face, as Tango and Zed drew closer, Tango hooking an arm around his shoulders.  
“Let’s get to your base.” Tango said, his voice soft. Impulse felt himself relax ever so slightly.  
“Thanks.” he said, smiling very slightly at his friends. “Scar, please take anything you need from the Totem shop. Free of charge.” It was less of an offer and more of a plea, he couldn’t stand to contribute nothing. Scar seemed to recognise this, and he nodded.  
“We will, thank you Impulse.”

Scar flew back up to the head of the Llama, as Impulse, Tango and Zedaph made their way over the shopping district to the great pyramid perched in the sea that Impulse called home. Scar was glad to see them go, in a way. He was happy that Impulse would get the rest he needed, Zed and Tango too. It’d been a long day for all three of them.

As he alighted on the head of the llama, Mumbo stepped up to him. The eyes of the whole group followed, and he got the feeling Mumbo had been chosen to deliver news to him. He was immediately proven right as Mumbo began to speak, running his hand through his hair like he usually did when he was stressed.  
“Scar! So, um, We just spotted Grian. He looks like he’s trying to get into the Mycelium Resistance base? Etho said he was standing on the entrance, anyway. Stress respawned in her shop, right next to him and he just ignored her.”  
Scar frowned, apprehension wrapping it’s way around his sternum. He turned to Etho and Xb,  
“How do you get into the base?”  
“There’s a shulker box, you just stand on the lid, open it up and drop in.” Said Xb, Etho nodding to corroborate. “It, uh, doesn’t look like Grian really knows how to open it” Xb continued, his voice rising slightly in amusement at the end. Scar didn’t share it, thinking back to Bdubs with his bow, or Impulse with his sword. It was just a matter of time before he figured it out. He noticed False was still at the edge, apparently watching Grian, although as he stepped towards her, it became increasingly obvious that her eyes were distant, and her mind elsewhere.  
“False?” He asked, apprehensive. She snapped back to attention, and turned to him with an awkward smile, almost embarrassed, but not quite there.   
“Yeah? Sorry I was… distracted.”  
Scar bit down the worry he felt, and smiled.   
“If you’re tired, you can always get back to your base and sleep it off, you know. Don’t feel like you have to do this.”  
“No, no I want to be here, I know that. I’m going to rest the moment this is over, don’t worry.” she said, raising her hands slightly, as if to placate him, and he nodded, deciding to let the matter rest, and trying to stop comparing her distant stare to the blank, glassy look in the eyes of all the zombies they had encountered. None had been capable of proper speech. None had been anything other than senselessly violent. Even Impulse had only shown momentary restraint, to catch them off guard.

He had nothing to worry about, and as he headed up the group as they soared over the shopping district to confront Grian at Stress’ potion shop, he almost believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I hadn't already committed to semi-serious chapter names, I would've called this one the Team ZIT fluff chapter, because honestly this is about as fluffy as this story has gotten.
> 
> Also, it may be kinda obvious to see the general direction this is headed, but I don't mind. I'm writing this for the fun of it and as long as it's entertaining that's all that really matters.
> 
> Also, next chapter will be the final chapter! However, I have more hermit horrors planned for the future, albeit with a different premise ;3


	7. The HQ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With just Grian and Ren left infected, the Hermits make their way into the Mycelium Resistance HQ. There was no predicting just what would happen whilst down there.
> 
> CW// Body horror, blood
> 
> (please excuse the chapter name, the only decent ones I could think of were straight up spoilers so I had to settle for what I've got. Spoiler free but at what cost...?)

The small group alighted across the path from stress’s potion shop, keeping as much distance between Grian and themselves as they reasonably could without getting up on a building. They huddled together, all eyes fixed on Grian as he fumbled with the Shulker Box lid. His movements were unenthusiastic, almost performative, as if he was just making a show of being unable to open it.

“Well, he seems busy” Mumbo whispered, dragging his eyes from Grian to address the group. There was the slightest quiver in his voice. “Should we just… get him now?”  
“I don’t see why not,” Scar said, his voice hardly audible, reaching for his bow. The others followed suit, pulling their weapons into their hands as quietly as they could.   
At one point whilst nocking his arrow Bdubs managed to drop it, and it hit the ground with an excruciatingly loud clatter. However, if Grian noticed he didn’t show it, simply continuing to poke at the shulker. His behaviour was so wrong, his passivity almost more unsettling than any aggression he could muster. 

With weapons drawn, the Hermits waited, unsure of what to do. They hadn’t done anything coordinated yet, most confrontations being short and panic stricken. Most eyes fell on Scar, who had his own trained on Grian. Upon noticing everyone was watching, he faltered in surprise, clearly not expecting to be the one coordinating the attack.  
“Um- everyone get ready. We’ll shoot on three?” he whispered, drawing back his own bow, and aiming for Grian. Everyone followed his lead, as close to silently as they could, all very conscious of just how close they were to Grian, and the danger they were in.

It was once every bow was poised that Grian raised his head, standing up a little straighter. He tilted his head towards them, slightly unbalanced, and his face split into an uncanny smile. Too wide. Too forced. Nothing but teeth. There was no sincerity behind it, only thinly veiled malice. Scar faltered, failing to start his countdown, and Grian took the chance to step onto the shulker box and slip inside the base in one quick, effortless motion. 

And then he was gone, and the Hermits were left aiming diligently at a tree.

Scar lowered his bow, letting the string relax and stowing the arrow back into his inventory. He stared at the pink shulker box, tucked neatly away behind some leaves with a mixture of disappointment and surprise, before taking a careful step onto the path which separated them from the shop. He paused, waiting to see if anything would happen, before continuing all the way across, and stepping into the shop. He carefully navigated the scattered bushes, and drooping, weeping leaves of the willow tree to get to the shulker. It’s smooth, magenta sides had thick, oozing mycelium threads clinging to it, erupting from the ground around it’s base. He was suddenly very thankful that the potion shop had mostly coarse dirt for it’s floor.

Many pairs of footsteps followed his lead as the rest of the group came to huddle around the shulker,  
“The only thing we can really do now is go in, I think.” came Etho’s voice, tired but level. Scar nodded, still staring at the mycelium attempting to claw it’s way up to the surface. A vague dread settled in his chest.  
“If that’s what it’s like on the surface I bet it’s awful down there.” Bdubs said, leaning beside Scar, examining the mycelium.  
“Hang on, could you move over for a second?” Cub asked, attempting to come a bit closer. Scar and Bdubs obliged, stepping back as Cub produced a stick from his inventory and poked at one of the threads. The thing ruptured, and hissed a lazy haze of spores into the air, as the same black liquid that had often leaked from the infected began to ooze steadily out of the puncture hole. Cub stepped back abruptly, a look of thinly veiled disgust on his face.  
“Gross!” said XB, also backing away, despite already being out of the range of the quickly dissipating spores. Beside him, Xisuma had gone very pale.   
“I don’t think we should all go at once.” he said, rubbing absently at his arm as he spoke, “If something goes wrong we don’t want everyone getting infected. Better a few people go down and the rest stay on the surface, ready to help if something goes wrong, right?”  
Scar hesitated, his eyes drifting from X to the shulker and then back again.  
“He’s right” Came Beef’s voice from the back of the group, fixing Scar with a worried look. “We really don’t want everyone getting infected.”  
Scar sighed, then nodded.  
“Yeah. Yeah you’re right.” He looked to the group once more trying to figure out who should go. He wanted the final decision to be their’s, sure, but there were some people who he definitely thought would be better staying behind. Etho and Xb, visibly tired, who hadn’t had a break since Ren had attacked them in the Lab. False, pale and strange, still recovering from the arrow to the chest.   
“Does anyone want to go down first?” He asked, unwilling to impose any decisions on anyone. Xisuma inclined his head, and took a step forwards.  
“I’ll go. I’ve got all this armour, as long as I keep it on I should be fine. At least any spores can’t get past the air filter.” Scar hesitated, then nodded.   
“Ok, X is going, anyone else?” Despite his reservations about letting the still freshly cured and visibly fatigued and agitated admin go, he made a good point. Of everyone there, he was best equipped to avoid non-deadly infection routes, and most heavily protected. Scar got the feeling that X would not be removing any part of his armour for any reason this time.  
In answer to his request for more volunteers, False cleared her throat to get his attention. With his eyes trained on her, she spoke.  
“I’ll go too.” Scar opened his mouth to protest, but she shut him down.  
“I’m much better, I promise. The wound has healed already, and I’m not infected!” She offered up her perfectly normal, uninfested arms as proof, and scar sighed, relenting.  
“Alright...”  
False smiled brightly to him, and began sorting through her hotbar, rearranging it, but something still nagged at Scar, filling him with unease. 

No one had ever suggested that she might be infected. At least, not out loud.

“That’s probably enough of us for now.” X said, tilting his head towards scar, “One for each zombie. But keep an eye on the chat, we’ll contact you if something goes wrong.” Scar nodded,  
“We will. Good luck down there.”

As X double checked his stuff, and made sure his saturation was high, his apprehension of the task ahead of him slowly eased into outright fear. He felt an obligation to protect the server, he was the admin after all, but at the same time the sensation of the Mycelium under his skin just wouldn’t go away. And going with False…? He didn’t want to kick up a fuss, lest his fears about her were just nonsense and he was jumping to wild conclusions, but there wasn’t anyone who he would feel more uncomfortable going with. The base was guaranteed to be a total disaster area.   
He paused as he noted an empty spot in his hotbar, and frowned. What was he missing? He checked through his inventory, then his ender chest, accessing it from the one in the shop.  
“’Haven’t got a flint and steel!” He lamented to himself, sighing. It felt almost necessary, considering the zombie’s weakness to fire, but he’d lost his when he was cured, and who keeps backup flint and steels in their shulker? They’re trivial to make and never essential for staying alive while you collect your gear. He let out a heavy sigh, as someone tapped lightly on his shoulder to get his attention.  
“Here, I’ve got one you can have” Said Etho, clearly smiling ever so slightly under his mask, offering up the same flint and steel X had borrowed from him earlier. “I can always make another and I’d say you probably need it more than me.”  
X smiled, taking it and lining it up in his hotbar.  
“Thanks Etho.”  
Etho smiled a little more, and stepped away slightly.  
“Good luck down there.”  
“Thanks.”

Making a few final checks to make sure his gear was all in order, and adjusting the tightness of the straps that held his armour on, X walked up to the pink shulker, False just behind him. Her stuff wasn’t quite as organised as he would’ve expected, but he tried not to dwell on it. Whatever worked for her, he supposed. He felt everyone’s eyes on him as he stepped onto the shulker, and tentatively reached down. He paused, double checking the air filter in his helmet was on, before opening the lid and dropping into the base. Or rather, what remained of it.

The Resistance base, clearly once pristine and clean, was in utter disarray, infested from floor to ceiling with thick, pulsing, oozing tendrils of mycelium. They weaved between columns, carpeting the floor and ceiling in bitter, purple filth. Smaller strands hung down limply like horrible, distended entrails, and the few of those X caught as he fell down clung stubbornly to his armour. Even with the air filter, he could smell the place. It stank of offal, earth and despair.   
He heard False land behind him, her boots squelching in the organic mess that covered the remains of the table they had landed on. She must have a strong stomach to not even retch at this place. He couldn’t imagine what it was like without a helmet to block out the worst of the smell. 

Waist deep in the tendrils that covered the floor stood Grian, pulling and fumbling at something on the floor. X squinted, no, not something. Someone. 

Ren.

He was deathly pale, his cheeks and eyes hollow, his body twisted and misshapen by the mycelium infestation that had totally consumed him. He was almost limp in Grian’s arms, the simple act of doing nothing seemingly bringing him untold amounts of discomfort. His blue eyes were dull, tired, full of struggle. His body would twitch at any contact Grian made, as if he was trying to squirm out of his own skin. X knew the feeling all too well. Ren’s eyes flickered up to meet his, then drifted behind him, widening in horror. He opened his mouth to yell or scream, but only a choked wheeze hissed out, and X blanched, beginning to twist around to see what Ren had seen, when a firm, gloved hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him back as a glistening sword was thrust through his abdomen.  
He could feel the hilt resting against his back.

X stared at the netherite blade for a moment, detached from reality as shock and adrenaline hit his system. He heaved a laboured breath as the shock crystallized into stark, bitter betrayal.

Then the pain hit.   
He couldn’t help but let out an agonized cry, punctuated with gasps as he fought for air, tears pricking at his eyes and spilling over down his face. He wanted to bend over, to cradle his wounded stomach, to press on the puncture that struck through his unprotected midsection, but the blade remained. In the back of his mind, he knew this to be a good thing, but in his panic all he wanted was for that blade to be gone. And the hand- False’s hand, it still forced him onto the blade. Her grip was unnaturally strong.

Then the blade twisted, and again X couldn’t restrain his yell, his breathing, already erratic and pained, became even more disorganised, his head swimming, his vision darkening, the world blurring and slurring around him, the horrible smell of the mycelium mixing with the metallic twang of the blood in his mouth. And then he was falling, shoved unceremoniously off the table, sword conspicuously missing from his midriff. He writhed around in the air to see False, her face unclear but filled with hate and twisted in horrible joy, her eyes vacant and unmistakably infected, her blade dripping with rich crimson.

He landed in the thick hyphae around the table in a puff of spores, the sudden eruption of colour and smells only worsening his disorientation. He shook, twitching and suffering in the tangle of fungus. His arms weren’t cooperating, his limbs weak, the great liquid filled fungal growths too wobbly to get any decent grip on. He was too light-headed to really string together any coherent thoughts, the world rocking and spinning around him. His abdomen screamed, weeping blood.

False stepped off the table, navigating the mycelium with some difficulty, skirting around Xisuma’s prone figure to reach Grian, who continued to prop Ren up. The man was too wracked with infection to stand on his own, his legs weak and shaking, but with so few of their number remaining, every zombie was needed. And that would include Xisuma, once he succame once again. For now, the three made their way to the bubblevator that just barely managed to function, Ren dragging behind. His eyes watered, and his lip quivered, but he didn’t cry. The Mycelium had other, more important things for him to save his strength for.

X was just barely aware that the zombies were on the move, tipped off less by his own senses and more by the shifting of mycelium as they slowly forged a path through the tangled threads. His consciousness was slipping, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he couldn’t let them leave. He had to stop them. Yet still the allure of darkness fought with his need to protect his friends.

Splayed on his back, weak, bleeding, dying, X chose his friends.

He began to fumble through his hotbar, fingers clumsy, desperate for something that would help. His hands found the flint and steel, a welcome weight in fingers that he was already loosing feeling in. With some effort, he managed to split up the flint and steel, holding one in each shaking hand, rolling onto his side so that he could properly see the mycelium he had to ignite. The small group of zombies were halfway to the elevator, and he felt anxiety rising in his chest as he brought the tool together, dragging one across the surface of the other with a metallic scrape. The noise seemed muffled to X, but judging by how quickly False whipped around, it was very loud. What’s more, the action produced no sparks. 

X knew, as False began charging towards him, that using the flint and steel was a mistake. But he had committed now, and he didn’t think he could operate a bow anyway. His vision was swiftly failing him, and it was a miracle he had any dexterity at all, but sheer determination kept him going, as he struck the flint and steel again and again and again. The whole time he was acutely aware that he was deteriorating, that False drew ever nearer, that the mycelium grew ever further. 

By the time any of his attempts of igniting the mycelium produced sparks, the world was nothing but shapes and sounds and pain. The mycelium didn’t catch, and False was almost upon him, but he began striking with renewed determination, or perhaps desperation, forcing the tool closer to the bulging surface of the mycelium.

Click, spark.  
Click, spark.  
Click, spark.  
Click  
Click  
Click

His strength was fading rapidly, and soon he once again fell into a pattern of failing to produce sparks, his whole world filled with the scraping clicking noises of the flint and steel making contact, his vision all but gone, his body numb aside from pain. Yet he continued trying, it was all he could do. Even False finally reaching him, hooking one hand into the gap between his chestplate and under armour, bracing to pick him up didn’t stop him. And as she began to heft him into the air, his body limp and dripping, he struck the flint and steel one last time.

It clicked. Then it sparked. Then the world was a seething inferno as the Mycelium caught, going up almost instantaneously, the fire streaming down each and every strand of fungus, scorching it into nothing and spreading as it went. False screamed, her cry visceral and inhuman as Xisuma was dropped into the flames. He hardly felt the impact, but definitely felt the flames as he, too, was caught in the blaze.

Grian, at this point practically at the bubblevator, dropped Ren in a hurry, leaving him to be incinerated as he tried to sprint the final few feet to the bubblevator. But the mycelium on the floor hindered him too much, grabbing and wrapping at his legs before going up like kindling as the flames screamed down them, engulfing him along with everything else in the room. The clouds of billowing smoke that filled the air and swept up and through the shulker box entrance would’ve made the air choking and unbreathable, had there been anything left alive in the room to breathe it.

In a matter of seconds, the Mycelium headquarters went from a bustling hive of infection to a scorched, dead husk.

/Xisumavoid burned to death/

/Falsesymmetry burned to death/

/Renthedog went up in flames/

/Grian burned to death/

Xisuma awoke once again in the bed atop one of his towers, amongst the familiar clutter of his storage system. His whole body ached, and he was tired beyond belief, already feeling himself about to slip into sleep almost the moment he respawned. But he held onto consciousness, forcing his uncooperative, pained body into a sitting position, and pulled out his communicator, which buzzed almost incessantly in his hands. Propping himself up into a vague sitting position, he opened it up to a flood of messages. They came in quickly, and his eyes refused to focus as he tried to read them, messages nothing but a jumble of letters rather than words. He heaved a sigh and placed the communicator down on the floor beside his bed, muting it, almost slipping asleep before coming out of the sitting position he’d drawn himself into. 

X closed his eyes and rested his head on his knees, breathing slow, simply listening to the sounds of the jungle around him. The storm that had raged earlier had subsided and now, instead of thunder and rain, he was treated to the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind, the lazy dripping of water still running off of the roof of the tower, the sounds of parrots as they dipped and flew around in the warm, still air. After all that had happened, Xisuma was glad to relax. He could feel a faint protective pang, he could feel responsibility closing in on him, but for now he chose to ignore it. His friends would understand. He trusted that.

Xisuma hadn’t noticed that he’d drifted off to sleep until he was awoken by the sounds of poorly hushed whispers and a quiet conversation somewhere to his right. He yawned, lifting his head, his face scrunching in pain as it erupted in a headache, and as his body hurt ever more, both from the memory of dying and from his awkward sleeping position. The room had gone very silent, and blinking the light from his eyes, X could see three people standing around him. Scar, False, and Ren, eyes all alight with concern. He nodded to them in greeting, still out of it, before pulling off his helmet, hoping that removing it would help ease his headache. As he did this, Ren stepped towards him, his expression apologetic. X could see his apology coming from a mile away.

“X,-” he began, but Xisuma chuckled, cutting him off.   
“Don’t worry about it Ren.”  
“But- X, I nearly destroyed the whole dang server!”  
“I know but really, don’t worry. You didn’t destroy the server, and technically I’m the one who destroyed your HQ,”  
Ren looked like he had more he wanted to say, still brimming with apologies, but False decided to speak before he could,   
“I actually stabbed you, and I’m sorry. I didn’t think I was infected until it was too late.”  
Again, X sighed.   
“It’s fine, False. But, I would like to know when you actually became infected? It wasn’t really obvious.”  
“Looking back, it was almost the whole time after I got shot, but I properly became infected after Tango and Zed got Impulse. After that I guess the mycelium just decided to… bide it’s time.”  
X nodded. That made sense to him. His eyes drifted to scar, who had remained quiet, watching the three of them from a small distance.  
“You alright, Scar?”  
Scar snapped to attention, apparently not paying as much attention as it had seemed he was. He looked tired.  
“Oh! Yes I’m fine, just a little tired, you know.”  
X smiled slightly,  
“How are things? Is everyone ok? Everyone cured?”  
Scar nodded, smiling.  
“Everyone’s safe. We’ve already gotten started clearing all the normal mycelium out of the Shopping District, just in case, and everyone who was infected are relaxing and recovering, whether they want to or not.”  
“Good”, Xisuma said, his eyes growing heavy once again, but his mouth twisting into a smile. He forced his head up, and fixed Ren and False with what he hoped was a reassuring look.  
“It’s fine guys. Everyone’s safe, the server is safe, and I don’t hold any of this against you. Go and rest like the others. You need it.” He turned his gaze onto Scar, “That means you too Scar.”  
“...Alright. Thank you dude,” Ren said, stepping away and taking flight out of one of the landing bays. False followed him with a smile and a simple ‘see you later’.   
Scar took a few steps towards the nearest landing bay, then paused to look back at X, who was adjusting his bedsheets in preparation for more rest.  
“Xisuma?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Thank you.” Scar said, leaping from the bay before X could reply. X watched him go fondly, revelling in the comfortable feeling of safety that had been so absent recently. He smiled.   
Already the pain and suffering seemed less prominent in his mind, and he knew that given time and help from his friends, they would be nothing more then unpleasant memories. He pulled the covers of the bed over himself and relaxed, drifting peacefully to sleep. 

Everything would be ok. And just for once, he knew that for certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, this fic is over! I hope you enjoyed it, and that the ending was fairly satisfying! The last chapter is always the hardest to write.  
> I've really enjoyed writing this fic though, and I hope to only get better with my future ones!  
> Speaking of future fics, gimmie a few weeks and I'll most likely be ready to start posting my next fic. It has vampires! (just one lol)  
> Thank you for reading! :3


End file.
